


Rust

by orphan_account



Category: Deathgarden (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Worship, Dash is 17, Degradation, M/M, Musk (lowkey), Oral Sex, Rimming, Watersports, some lack of consent happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The body wants what the body wants, even if they’re in the middle of the Bloodharvest. Fog really has to take a piss and then the proverbial train flies off the rails.





	Rust

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happens basically right after Dash joins the Bloodharvest, so he's still not disillusioned about the whole thing. He knows some of the scavs from watching 'em back home, so yeah.
> 
> This is a mess and I will not apologize.

You’d think that he’d be able to hold it in until the end of the harvest, just long enough to get through the last few minutes, but the throbbing pain in Fog’s groin is too much to bear anymore. He curses himself for having neglected to relieve himself before going into the garden, but hey, that’s how it goes sometimes when you’re getting up there in age.

The web of red pulsing through the sky alludes to the scavengers delivering blood on the other side of the garden. Having just delivered what he had collected, Fog decides this is the perfect opportunity to have a little down-time. There are a billion bushes littering the forested area around him, so Fog lumbers over to a more secluded part of the woods and picks a random bush.

His gloved fingers fumble with his belt for a second before he manages to dig out his dick. The humidity of the biome combined with all that running has created a musky swamp in his pants, but he ignores his own scent as he spreads his legs shoulder-width apart, aims his flaccid penis, and lets out all the piss threatening to burst his bladder.

Fog cranes his neck back a bit and lets out a long sigh. The relief is instant. In the sick world he lives in, it’s the little things that keep him going. The moment is so blissful that Fog almost doesn’t notice the strange sounds coming from the bush he’s pissing into. First of all, the liquid is audibly splattering against something much more solid than leaves. Second of all, piss does not make a bush rustle that much. Fog straightens his neck to peer down at what the hell’s going on.

It’s hard to notice through the foliage, but once he sees it, it’s clear as day. The dull yellow of his own urine is pooling on Dash’s tinted glasses. Fog’s jaw drops, but he can’t help but finish his business without a word. Before he can say anything, Dash leans out of the bush with his bandanna draped low on his neck. His tongue sticks out and runs over the corners of his mouth, collecting whatever droplets of piss had collected there. 

“Man, Fog, you’ve really got some balls if you’re taking a bathroom break in the middle of the harvest. Big bladder too, sheesh.” Dash grins to himself as he wipes slicks of urine off his face with the back of his hand. “I just didn’t think I would get so lucky today!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fog hisses, still in too much shock to remember to put away his penis. The fact that it is notably half-erect does not elude Dash, but it somehow eludes its owner. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hiding here?!”

“I don’t think you would have pissed on me if I asked, dude.” He hobbles out of the bush, balanced on his heels. Even though his glasses hide his expression from the older gentleman standing above him, Dash gives a cheeky little wink and nod. He doesn’t even bother explaining his statement before reaching up and hooking his fingers around the waistband of Fog’s pants.

“What?” Fog can’t help but wince, though he’s not entirely sure if that’s just to save face or if he’s actually disgusted. Dash’s hands dance closer and closer to his exposed cock and he doesn’t know whether to stop him or not. Obviously, yeah, they’re kind of busy at the moment, but this is going really fast and he’s already frazzled as fuck. The opportunity to bone outside of the garden doesn’t present itself much, either...

Dash runs his forefingers across the shaft of Fog’s cock, causing it to twitch in response. “I mean, God, what an honor! Getting showered in the glory of a legendary scav like you…” His voice sings it like a bard would an epic, though the shit-eating smirk he has makes Fog wonder just how facetious he’s actually being. The absurdity of the situation is doing a strangely good job of convincing Fog to go along with it, though. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to get a taste of your old man cock.”

“Hey, I’m not even forty yet.” Fog grits his teeth and glares down at Dash, who doesn’t even seem fazed by his outburst. Instead, he wraps his hand around Fog’s thickening cock as he leans forward and runs his tongue over the head of it. Dribbles of piss slowly leak out of Fog’s uncut dick, though soon enough the tang of urine gets replaced with the taste of precum. Dash stops to take a long whiff of Fog’s natural manly scent, enjoying himself far too much despite the mixture of piss and sweat burning his nostrils.

Dash slides his fingers from the shaft of the cock down to Fog’s hanging balls, caressing them carefully. Both of his hands worship Fog as best as they can with passionate movements, feeling up every single inch of skin. Every hair he brushes over sends a tingle of joy through Dash, exciting his own dick more than enough to start staining his underwear. He gets way too much enjoyment out of watching the older man squirm underneath his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Your cock is huge.” Dash moans, embellishing the details only a little bit. It’s a bit above average at best. As the tip of Fog’s dick works its way into his mouth, Dash reaches his hands around Fog’s waist and grabs onto his tight ass. It feels even better than it looks, which is saying a lot, since Dash has desperately taken every single opportunity to stare at the cake filling the man’s pants out. Fog buckles his hips forward as Dash’s fingers dip down, feeling up the muscle of his thighs. Fog’s body twitches under Dash’s gentle touch, cold shivers running up their bodies. “Can’t believe how hot you are.”

As much as he’s enjoying himself, with his breath hitching behind his gas mask, Fog finds himself wanting a little more than just a blowjob. Dash’s body is young, lithe, and he can’t help but want to fuck the boy so badly. The last hook-up he had was even older than himself and a young guy like Dash is a hot commodity. “Turn around.” Fog growls under his breath, pulling Dash off his cock. A long trail of cum stretches from the head of his dick to the corner of Dash’s mouth, but it breaks when Dash’s tongue licks it off his lips.

Eager to please, Dash slips his pants down over his hips and turns his back to Fog, who wastes no time in bending him over. The boy’s ass is muscular and pristine, just as Fog had expected. The possibilities are endless, so much so that it’s almost overwhelming, but in the heat of the moment, Fog quickly decides on his course of action. While he’s desperate for release himself, he elects to ignore his own cock for a bit to spread Dash’s ass, lean his head down, and start working his tongue across the boy’s hole.

Dash had tried to be so confident earlier, but as soon as Fog starts pleasuring his ass, he starts whining and moaning like a bitch in heat. It’s immediately clear to Fog that Dash has never had a tongue in his ass, based on the fact that he can barely keep himself off the ground after only a couple seconds of careful stimulation. Fog’s busy spelling his own name with his tongue, but the session has to get cut short to avoid Dash cumming all too soon.

Once Fog pulls away and flips the boy back around, Dash returns to his cocky persona, even though his glasses got lost in the bush and he’s drooling down the side of his mouth. “Wanna see what I can do with my toes?” He asks, tongue lolling out as he positions his back on the ground. Fog has one hand on his dripping cock as he stares down at Dash. A lot of thoughts go through his mind again, but they all get thrown out the window when his libido mixes with his curiosity.

Yes, he does want to see, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, Fog just takes a step closer to Dash, who positions his legs so that he can stretch his feet up to Fog’s crotch. The bottoms of his toe shoes have quite a bear of wear and grime on them, but at this point, cleanliness is very out of mind. The contour of his thin feet wraps around Fog’s twitching cock, delicately massaging the old man’s meat with the precision of a marksman.

In all honesty, Dash is way better with his feet than with his mouth. Fog can feel the sweat gathering on his face as his body quivers and shakes under the pressure of his building orgasm. He wants to beg him to go faster, harder, but the slow and steady nature of Dash’s feet is better than the hardest fuck he’s ever had. Instead, Fog folds his arms back over his head to keep himself from touching his own cock, leaving Dash to have full control over what happens to him.

Dash, meanwhile, continues stroking himself as he jacks Fog off, and right as Fog finally lets out an orgasmic groan, Dash pushes himself over the edge at the same time. He quickly contorts himself forward so his head’s below Fog’s cock, desperate to catch the wave of cum on his face. The gush of hot semen makes his own orgasm that much better, wracking him with so much guilty pleasure that he can’t help but slam his head down into the ground.

Fog’s knees shake and wobble as he rubs his cock for the remaining few seconds of his orgasm. His breath stops, the pleasure freezing his whole body. For a brief moment, nothing around him exists. He’s lost in an ocean of endorphins. Slowly, though, the ringing in his ears subsides and he’s greeted with the sight of Dash laying in a pile of leaves with his signature grin plastered across his face. Streaks of cum coat his nose and run all the way down his chin. Stains of drying urine color his cheeks.

The post-nut sobriety hits Fog hard, and with a frustrated huff, he shoves his soaking-wet cock into his pants. It makes a visible tent, but he elects to ignore it. They stare at each other for a long moment, trying to come up with some way to smoothly end this, but right as Dash opens his mouth, the sound of gunfire draws their attention. The rattling of an SMG draws ever closer, with trees cracking in the bullets’ wake.

“Clean yourself up and get going.” Fog mutters under his breath, but just as he turns to run, Sawbones leaps down from a tree and sprints past, barely paying any mind to the two. Dash scrambles up off the ground and slides his pants back on as best as he can, though it proves to be a wasted effort as Fog’s body slams into his and they fall into the bush together. Fog’s hand slides over Dash’s, desperate to keep him from making a single sound as heavy footsteps get closer and closer.

For a second, everything seems to be okay. Dash even starts to enjoy himself a little. The heat of Fog on top of him is exciting him all over again, and the rush of fucking in the middle of a harvest is everything he thought it would be. He can feel Fog’s bulge rub up against his leg, his chest pressing in and out as he steadies his breathing. Fog isn’t the most ripped guy around or anything, but damn, having a bigger man press into him is amazing.

Then the moment’s over and Fog lets out a scream as a spray of bullets shreds right through his back and buries into Dash’s side, causing blood to permeate throughout his shirt. A hand reaches into the bush and rips Fog out, throwing him out into the open. Dash can’t help but lay there in pain and stare as the Poacher shoves the barrel of his shotgun into Fog’s mouth. The trigger clicks. His throat explodes into a red mist. Then, his body just drops.

Dash can hear his heart pounding. In fact, it’s the only thing he can hear at all as the Poacher starts coming towards him. His gun sways loosely in his hand as he strides. There’s something in his eyes that makes Dash’s world crumble apart. He’d been shot and recycled before, but--

“I apologize. Did I interrupt something?” The Poacher laughs to himself as he grabs Dash by the collar, ripping him up off the ground. The boy’s feet kick against the Poacher’s side, but it’s pointless. There’s no way he can break the iron grip around his neck, and with a gun digging into his gut, there’s no time to even try. With no escape, Dash merely shuts his eyes and braces himself for the impact. The heat explodes in his leg as the bullets eviscerate his muscles. No more comes, however. There’s no finishing blow. The only reason Dash opens his eyes again is because he can hear the Poacher laughing again. Then, he hits the ground heard.

“What the fuck?” Dash gasps out, but he doesn’t dare try to run. A point-blank blast would fuck him up in an instant. Not like he would even make it very far with a bum leg anyway.

“This is the first time in a long while that I’ve gotten to see a scavenger without his mask on.” The Poacher muses out loud, though it doesn’t seem like it’s directed to anyone but himself. “The fear in his eyes… Such a sight. I couldn’t help but keep from pulling the trigger.” He cranes his head back around to glare at Dash this time. The left side of his face scowls so hard that it matches the gnarled side of his face. “But unfortunately, I can’t let you go, boy. To let you escape would mean letting your filth breed in the Enclave, and we can’t have that, can we?”

“So, whatcha gonna do?!” Dash spits out. The sudden flash of courage is shocking, even to him, but at least if he dies here, it won’t be as pathetic. “Just shoot me and get it over with, you ugly motherfucker!”

“You’ll end up like your friend soon, but...” He takes a step forward before bringing his boot down on Dash’s chest, knocking the breath straight out of him. “First, you need to learn your place in the world, maggot.” He drives the heel of his boot into Dash’s ribs, bending the bones until there’s a guttural snap.

“Fuck you.” It’s all he can manage to choke out in between his shaky breaths. A bit of blood seeps out of his mouth. In response, the Poacher stomps down again, resulting in another disgusting cracking sound. As Dash lays on the ground writhing and sobbing in pain, the Poacher stands over the boy and undoes his belt. 

He pulls his thick cock out and takes aim, much like Fog had done prior, but this time, Dash feels nothing but disgust for himself as the Poacher lets out a stream of piss onto him. The warm liquid coats his face and soaks his clothes and it’s nothing but a fucking joke. The proud look staining the Poacher’s face is just the icing on the world’s shittiest cake. Dash tries to shield his eyes with his hands, but the Poacher starts laughing at his pathetic attempts to save face and it just makes him feel worse so he stops. It’s, honestly, a very depressing ordeal. One has to wonder if the audience in the enclave enjoys watching this. Maybe they enjoyed seeing Fog and him fuck, too. Sick bastards.

“Squirm like the worm you are.” He keeps chuckling. The sound of it is driving Dash insane. Eventually, the rain of piss ends and Dash is left cold and humiliated. Maybe he should have done something, but the shearing pain is pinning him to the ground. He doesn’t even dare look at what happened to his leg. It doesn’t end there, though. The Poacher kneels down and tears Dash’s pants off his hips, revealing his dick to the world. He prods Dash's cock with the barrel of the gun until it stirs a bit, as if to make a point. “Hah, look! Of course filth like you would enjoy this. Maybe beg a bit and I’ll let you bleed out instead.”

“Fuck you, you piece of shit!” Dash screams out. The adrenaline courses through his veins, and in a last ditch effort to maintain his dignity, he drags himself onto his side and starts crawling away. He doesn’t get very far before the Poacher’s boot slams down on him one final time and the cold barrel of a shotgun digs into his back.

Well, at least he’s getting what he’s always wanted: a proper scavenger introduction to execution.


End file.
